Ripples of Shadow Prologue
by Greywolfe08
Summary: The first in a series of episodes for a World of Warcraft, episodic fan fiction novel: From the peaks of the Hinterlands to the bowels of Northrend itself, an unlikely group of heroes makes their way into the very shadow of death.


**Prologue: The Beginning to an End**

From her window in her lodgings at the The Gilded Rose, Moria could see some of the bustle of the city below her. Stormwind was an industrious city, perhaps not so much as Ironforge, but that's what she loved. In the distance she could hear the clamor from the newly completed Stormwind Harbor. Smells of the ocean wafted through the city, and added to the aroma of fish and salt water was freshly cut timber. Ships of all sizes were being built en masse for the coming invasion of Northrend, where Arthas, the Lich King reigned.

"Arthas…" The name left a sour taste in Moria's mouth. "We all do what we must, in the time we're given." She murmured to herself as she turned from the window. Moria was in her middle years, and a mage of above average skill. Some would say her to be more than handsome, if not pretty. Her auburn hair silhouetted a face with brilliant green eyes and a full red mouth. A vase filled with fresh roses stood on the night stand beside the dresser. _I must remember to thank Allison later, she's such a sweet woman, a wonderful innkeeper._ Moria smiled at the thought of the roses; Allison knew of her love for flowers. Putting her attention back on the task at hand, she slid open the middle drawer of her dresser and drew out a folded parchment. A contact of hers gathered this information while in the company of a group of Kirin Tor that were headed for Northrend, and it was her duty to get it into the hands of yet another mage. Moria sighed. All of this based on the hunch of some bloody Warlock who thought she knew better than the Circle of Elders amongst the Mages of Dalaran. Well, as it turned out, the bloody Warlock happened to be right. Moria opened the parchment, and re-read its contents for at least the tenth time today.

_Dear Sister, it is colder here than I thought. I should have brought another coat. I have word from the Hunter; the Lion, though no longer caged is in trouble. We cannot allow him any harm. It seems our Dark Sister was right. Seek out the Rose, she must be warned. The son of the Knight has spies everywhere. He has followers in the most unlikely places. Be safe, I will see you soon, the Light willing._

The letter was simply signed, -Your loving sister. But Moria could read between the lines. Her contact was always very careful to not give too much away to the untrained eye. She obviously arrived in Northrend safely and the Lion could only refer to King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind, though how he could come to any harm now that he was surrounded every moment by dozens of guards Moria could not fathom. As for the Hunter, that must be another one of her contacts, but the Dark Sister… That could only be the Warlock who started this all. After all, it was she who inspired them all to band together on this wild goose hunt. Although now, it seemed it wasn't so wild. Moria turned her head to the door when she heard someone running up the stairs. Resealing the parchment, she turned to smile at the man who entered as he knocked at the doorframe.

"Ah Rash, it is good to see you." The man before her was a good head taller. His brown hair was slightly grayed at the temples. And a scar on his left cheek wound from the corner of his eye, all the way to the jaw line. Rash Vandren was a seasoned soldier, and as bold a warrior of the Alliance as any. He was the perfect choice to get this letter into the right hands.

"Aye, it is good to see you as well my dear." His deep bow was formal as always to Moria. He had the deepest respect for mages. "And where would you have my feet take me this time?" His wry smile stretched the scar across his cheek. He was an incredibly handsome man except for that scar, and even at times she could ignore it. Rash's deep brown eyes held intelligence, and he knew now what was being asked of him was no small task.

"Rash, I fear this will be dangerous. I cannot promi-"

"Isn't it always dangerous?" Rash broke in with a laugh. He reached out and took hold of her hands. "You know that wherever you send me, I will reach. No matter the cost." He released her hands, and intensity filled his eyes. "Now tell me, where?"

"The Hinterlands. Aerie Peak to be more exact. I know you're familiar with the Wildhammer clan, and they should receive you warmly." She paused, eyeing him carefully as she chose her next words. "You are to meet a mage-sister of mine, her name is Mitsume Tch'indil. She has been studying in the Hinterlands for some time, and the last she wrote me, she was among the Wildhammer Dwarves at Aerie Peak. You will take this," Moria paused, taking a deep breath and handed him the parchment. "It is imperative that you reach Mitsume, Rash. I cannot emphasis that enough." Rash took the pamphlet and folding it, placed it among one of the pouches at his belt.

"You needn't worry yourself Moria, I will reach this Mitsume unscathed, as will your letter." He smiled then, and somehow, Moria knew that he would reach Mitsume at any cost to himself.

"Good. Now you best be on your way Rash, I have given directions to Mitsume as to where to head next. I must see to some local matters, but I will expect word from either your or her when you reach Aerie Peak." Moria made to turn back her dresser, but stopped at Rash clearing his throat.

"Moria I need to tell you something. That is I-" Moria made a cutting gesture with her hand to interrupt.

"Rash please, these times are hard enough. It would be best to wait for some of this to settle." Crimson bloomed in her cheeks. Part of her was screaming to let him finish, the other was terrified of what he might say.

"As you say my dear." He bowed again, and simply pressed his lips to her hand before turning away. And with that, he was gone.

Moria sighed deeply. She turned back to her dresser and began pulling dresses and shawls of good wool, and folding them, placed them on the bed. "Now where is my luggage." She murmured to herself as she searched the room.

"Pardon ma'am, but would you care to buy some flowers?" Moria nearly jumped out of her shoes. She was so absorbed in gathering her belongs, and preparing to leave that she didn't even notice the young boy in the doorway.

"Oh! Haven't you heard of knocking? Ha-ha, gave me quite the scare you did. But no, I do not need any flowers, thank you." She gestured to the flowers on her nightstand and smiled and bent down to the boy, placing a silver penny in his hand. "But I can always spare a coin for a cutie like you." The boy grinned up at her. Moria felt pain lance through her back where the knife slipped in between her ribs. Shock overwhelmed her, she couldn't move. Too stunned to speak, the boy just stood there grinning at her. The knife landed again, in her lower back, her kidneys. Moria fumbled, trying to gather magic around her…trying to. Her vision dimmed, she felt herself hit the floor. She looked up at the boy, his grin had turned into a maniacal smile. Moria's grasp on her magic slipped, if only she could get away…if only she could… A shadowy figure stepped over her to the boy and looked down at her. Moria's eyes went wide with shock. It was cold all of a sudden.

"Y-you…h-how could... I didn't even…" Moria's tongue grew thick in her mouth. Words evaded her. Her eyesight was rapidly dimming. _Who thought it could end like this…a knife from the shadows. Rash, please hurry…Mitsume must know…_

**.....**

The assassin looked down on the fallen woman, and from her, to the boy. The boy looked up, his brown eyes flared a brilliant red and nodded, then vanished. The assassin bent down to wipe blades free of blood on the woman's skirt, and re-sheathed the daggers. A missive or letter was to be found on the woman but searching her body turned up nothing. Searching her belongings provided the same result. It was not here anymore. She must have sent for a messenger already. Perhaps the man leaving just before….of course… The assassin slipped back into the shadows and left the room. A new objective suddenly became clear.

**.....**

Mitsume sat at a small oak desk, on a rather comfortable chair with supple cushions. Reports and notes littered the desk, and books lined the floor almost everywhere, but there was some semblance of order. Mitsume was a respected mage, quite powerful and strikingly beautiful. Her soft golden curls framed a young face with brilliant green eyes that held wisdom that belied her years. Ink stains marred her otherwise gorgeous green silk dress, but she seemed not to care. She had come to Aerie Peak to study in relative peace after all. These were tumultuous times, and the Wildhammer Clan provided the safety and comfort she needed to carry out her work.

"Pardon, Mitsume m'lady, but Commander Baelof requests your immediate presence at the peak of the tower." The dwarf who addressed her had a gruff voice, although that wasn't saying much for a dwarf. Dwarves seldom rushed about, as humans did, but this one seemed to be in a hurry.

"Of course Hendrig, I'll be there quick as the blink of an eye." The dwarf's frown did not fade. To suite action to words, Mitsume stood, gathered her staff from beside the desk and nodded to the dwarf…then she was gone in a flash, literally. One moment she was standing in her apartments deep within Aerie Peak, the next she was atop its tallest ramp, which had an incredible view of the land below. Most mages could only teleport from city to city, those that they've trained their mind to remember, but Mitsume had trained herself to be able to teleport to any spot that she could visualize: Quite a useful tool. Commander Baelof stood just a few paces to her left, he turned his head to her and nodded.

"Punctual as usual. I do like that in you Mitsume, aye. But seems we have a problem." He waved for her to come join him. In front of the dwarf stood a looking glass. Baelof motioned for her to look through. Mitsume barely held in a gasp. The looking glass was able to see far into the distance, and from her present vantage point high atop Aerie Peak, she was looking some two or three leagues, a several thousand paces, to the east. Just to the south of the Quel'danil Lodge there were hundreds, no thousands of soldiers amassed. Now, normally any army marching on Aerie Peak would have caused enough of a stir, but this was no ordinary army. Its soldiers were not among the living.

"Arthas!" Mitsume hissed through her teeth. Doing a fair estimate mentally, she quickly calculated that the Dwarves would be outnumbered almost ten to one…not the best odds. Her skills could tip the tide somewhat, but if there were any Death Knights in the ranks below… "Commander Baelof, I fear this army sent by the Lich King has come for me. I do not wish for any harm to come to your clan, but I am afraid they will not stop at killing me."

"Hmmmfff. You'd do well to remember who we are lass. I will not go back on my word to protect you, and neither will any of my men. We will fight to the last for you." The Dwarf beside her chuckled dryly. "Besides, we've faced far worse than this." He smiled grimly and turned from her to an aide to his side. After a few quick words the aide dashed off, deeper into the mountain. A moment or two passed while Mitsume mentally prepared herself for the battle to come. A horn blared, deep within the mountain. Orders shouted back and forth for a time, and Mitsume heard hundreds of feet clamoring in the armory below. The Dwarves were preparing for war. They were preparing to fight for their homeland. They were preparing to die…for her.

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**Ripples of Shadow**

"When life ends, a journey begins. When warmth grows cold, the silence encroaches. When the light becomes dim, your weariness will end. And when you lose everything, I will be waiting."

In the wastelands of Northrend, the Dark Prince Arthas awakens as the plot to unravel Azeroth unfurls before the Alliance and Horde where it cannot be seen, but lays in plain sight.

Blinded by the petty feuds of past transgressions, the bulk of the mortal races prove useless as a wizened Warlock finds the means to combat this new threat and seeks to garner the support of the most powerful allies she can find. While the ripples of shadow spread across the land, there is only one constant: Death, is inevitable.

From the peaks of the Hinterlands to the bowels of Northrend itself, an unlikely group of heroes makes their way into the shadow to combat an enemy beyond mortal comprehension. With a task so impossible, the only choice they have is to surpass even the greatest of Azeroth's legends.

When it comes to "epic," you haven't seen anything yet.

Read the next 8 Chapters at the WCFiction website.


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